


Ribbon

by diemarysues



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hospitals. It was always hospitals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbon

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what I'm writing, or what's wrong with me. Unbetaed.

He made sure that the American – he’d said his name was Tom something or other, but Anatoly didn’t believe him – was settled in properly at the hospital before making arrangements to return to Moscow for the ‘fun’ part of his job.

 

Before he left, though, his eyes unerringly caught the display window of the gift shop. Minutes later and he’d asked for a delivery to room 419. An impulsive purchase, but he’d had a few spare Rupees left.

 

At least, that’s what he told himself.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

Benji pointed them out, the white Gerbera daisies with a smattering of Chinese primroses. Well, he called them white flowers with smaller purple flowers; it was Will who gave their proper names, and attempted to follow it up with more scientific information. Asking after Jane was a suitable distraction, because he genuinely wanted to know. Being aware that she was alright – that they were all alright – was a weight off his chest.

 

When Dr. Gupta came in, she shooed Brandt and Benji away, stating in a lightly accented and no-nonsense way that visiting hours were over and anyway they’d been discharged yesterday.

 

“How are you feeling, Tom?”

 

What followed was the usual litany of questions and prompts and explanations, and Ethan suffered being poked and prodded. He was used to hospitals and doctors, of course. More than his fair share of ‘scrapes’ made him pretty blasé to the whole process, so it wasn’t long before Dr. Gupta was giving her final instructions.

 

“– so we’ll try to start physiotherapy on your leg as soon as possible.” The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, and so fast he almost missed it. He thought it might have been a smile. “Any questions?”

 

“When will I be discharged?”

 

That quick-as-lightning smile flashed again. “We’re still waiting on one more lab result. I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as possible.” She signed off the clipboard and hooked it on the metal frame of his bed. “Good day, Mr. Hunt.”

 

Ethan’s flat look was rather wasted on her retreating back. Well, at least that meant that IMF was no longer under Ghost Protocol – and it meant they could return home soon, injuries permitting.

 

The next few days passed by in a blur. Nothing very interesting happened, though Jane did heal enough to be wheeled in by Benji and Brandt. Ethan was content to enjoy the reprieve, no matter how brief it would probably be.

 

He refused to think about the future, about IMF, about whether or not he could count Benji and Jane and Will as teammates. It was easier not to dwell of what ifs – he’d learned that a long time ago. No, Ethan knew he should focus on recuperating, and on going back home, so he did.

 

He was, however, very annoyed when customs refused to let him bring in flowers – dried or not.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

The British Secret Service was surprisingly cooperative in letting Anatoly and his team into the country for their investigation. And when they (accidentally) ended up having a shootout in Somerfield, the agents were very gracious about it – though they did politely suggest that the Russians finish their business as soon as possible.

 

Finishing their business, though, meant extracting information from the man with the broken ankles.

 

“Oh! Excuse me.”

 

Anatoly grudgingly stepped back to let the uniformed man past, and was offered a smile in thanks. He was prepared to put the blond firmly out of mind, but for the clearly heard “He’s all yours.”

 

He whirled around, but the nurse was walking away steadily and didn’t look back. Anatoly didn’t recall ever seeing the man’s face before, but something was niggling at him.

 

It was only much, much later – when he was back in Moscow, in fact – that he realised that while he hadn’t recognised the face, he had recognised the voice from the last time he’d been in the hospital under what equated to ‘business’.

 

He should’ve been surprised, but wasn’t.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

“I’m sorry, Agent Hunt, but I think I’ve found an anomaly in your report…”

 

Ethan contained his sigh as he leaned back in his chair. Years and years at the IMF made him more weary of this sort of thing than was strictly necessary. He was aware, though, of his reputation, and that it would probably explain the way the man seated opposite him was fingering his collar nervously.

 

After a too-long pause, the man – Fennel – cleared his throat, shuffling his papers. “You say here that you were intercepted before you could leave EMC Spiridonevsky, is that correct?”

 

“It is, yeah.”

 

“What happened after?”

 

“Isn’t that in my report?” Ethan asked, eyebrows raised.

 

Fennel grimaced. “Yes. But humour me.”

 

Ethan slid his palms across the table top as he inclined forward. “They brought me to the nearest police station – apparently that was the most convenient thing for them to do. After the interrogation they let me go.”

 

Fennel was staring at a point on the table, brow furrowed. “What did they ask, during the interrogation?”

 

“Basically whether I’d been involved in the theft.” Before Fennel could follow up with another fatuous question, Ethan continued quickly, “I told them I wasn’t.”

 

“And they believed you?”

 

This time he didn’t bother suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “Clearly. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

 

Fennel didn’t look cowed, instead lifting his gaze to meet Ethan’s. “They just let you go?”

 

“Look, I didn’t promise anything, or give any information, or make any sort of deal.”

 

“I’m sure you didn’t, but IMF has to acknowledge the possibility that it seemed a little…too easy.” Fennel swallowed before removing a glossy from his file and placing it on the table between them.

 

Ethan kept the same bland expression he used in countless interrogation rooms – though this was far from an interrogation.

 

“Do you know this man?”

 

So, it was going to be like that, was it? “Yes.”

 

“Can you tell me who he is?”

 

Still no change in expression. “Anatoly. Anatoly Sidorov. Works for the Russian government.”

 

“Was he present during your interrogation?”

 

“He led it.”

 

Fennel nodded, glancing off to the side at the two-way mirror. “Did you know him prior to the interrogation?”

 

“Yes.”

 

There was the very slightest of pauses, one long enough to make the air awkward. “When did you meet him?”

 

Ethan breathed out steadily. “Moscow. 2012. The, ah, Ghost Protocol incident.”

 

“And have you met him since?”

 

“What, excluding this last time?” Ethan quirked his eyebrow. “Several times, yeah. Fleetingly.”

 

Fennel made a motion like he was going to touch his auburn hair, but aborted it in favour of adjusting his collar. “I think, Mr. Hunt…it’s best if you just recount what happened.”

 

Shrug. “If you want.”

 

_“So. You again.”_

_“Missed me?”_

_Anatoly places a plastic cup of coffee in front of Ethan, sipping from the other one in his hand. “Let us not ‘play games’. Do you have the –”_

_“No.” Ethan crosses his legs. “I know who does, though.”_

_The Russian, having sat down opposite him, gave him a look. Ethan noted that his nose hadn’t completely healed from when they’d been in Dubai. (He’d never really had the time to closely scrutinise Anatoly’s face to have made such an observation,  in any of the instances in which they’d passed each other by.)_

_“Not your people, then?”_

_“Obviously. And not yours.”_

_His smile is dangerous. “Obviously.”_

_There is silence. Anatoly sips his drink. Ethan ignores his._

_Finally Ethan tips his head to the side slightly. “I know where it’ll be.”_

_“I am sure you do.”_

_“I know_ when _it’ll be there.”_

_“No coffee for you?” Anatoly asks, tone light.  
  
_

_He glances up at the ceiling briefly. “‘M trying to keep my caffeine intake down.” His lips curl slightly. “None after two.”_

_Anatoly scratches his chin, blunt fingernails rasping lightly against the stubble there. “You missed me, in Brussels,” he says, referring to the shootout at Cinquantenaire Park following a diplomatic mission gone horribly sour._

_He almost doesn’t hear the murmured answer. “I always do.”_

_Training and experience probably keep surprise off Anatoly’s face. “I have one last question.”_

_“Mmm?”_

_“Are you telling me the truth,_ Team Leader _?”_

_Ethan grins at him openly. “Now, why would I do anything else?”_

_Anatoly bites the corner of his lip. A moment passes, and then two, before he tosses back the remainder of his coffee. “A mystery for the ages.” He nods at the men standing by the door, and then stands himself. “Release him.”_

_Just before they do, though, Anatoly leans down, close to Ethan’s ear. “Do not let me catch you again, hmm?”_

_He drops his gaze coquettishly, trying to stop his smile from growing. “I’ll try.”_

 

Fennel cleared his throat, for what seemed like the millionth time. “So. He just let you go?”

 

Ethan smirked. “He just let me go.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

He’d been getting a chocolate bar when it’d happened. He’d accepted the news with a terse nod before stalking back down the hallway, ending up in the alleyway behind Tsan Yuk Hospital. Somehow, the fact that Avdotya had no family to inform made everything feel all the more bleak.

 

He stuffed his hand in his pocket, clenching his fingers around the Zippo he wasn’t allowed to use. Sometimes he wondered why he’d taken this job.

 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

 

“You did not activate the detonator.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Still sorry.”

 

Anatoly turned tired eyes to the figure beside him. The American agent had not escaped the explosion either, but he’d obviously come out better than Avdotya. (He wanted sob _laugh_ cry. Obviously he’d come out better.) His wrist was wrapped up in bandages, and the left side of his face was a criss-cross of fine lines, interspersed with bruises. Anatoly was sure that if he removed the man’s clothes, the same pattern would be found all down the side.

 

His thoughts caught up with him and he clenched his jaw, resolutely turning his face away. He didn’t want to play this…whatever game it was that they played. “What do you want?”

 

“Ilene Vandermeer will be attending the Symphony of Lights tonight, to make the exchange. My team and I haven’t exactly been given explicit orders on apprehending her. Just that we interrupt the trade.” He shrugged, and then winced. “Who knows what’ll happen in that chaos.”

 

Anatoly didn’t thank him. But he did nod tersely.

 

A hand pressed against his shoulder, but he was too weary to tense. Luckily, he didn’t need to.

 

“Ethan. Ethan Hunt.”

 

Anatoly watched him leave, seamlessly blending into the crowd. Then he pushed off the wall. Went back into the hospital.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

Anatoly woke up as soon as Ethan placed the flowers on the bedside table. They were soft, white Phlox blossoms, held together by a single ribbon.

 

“So,” Anatoly said, pronouncing his words carefully, “you know.”

 

Ethan smiled at him, nodding.

 

Anatoly shrugged. Tried to. Doubtless he was doped up, but the twinges of pain that filtered through were more than enough to have him still his movements, a tiny, frustrated noise escaping his lips.

 

“I never meant it to get that far.”

 

He didn’t frown. Frowning hurt, bizarrely.

 

“It’s my fault. Didn’t get word to you in time. And they got you.”

 

“Did you ‘get’ them?”

 

The American nodded absently. “Yes, with my team. The Sacrament are no more.”

 

“I do not suppose that we will be allowed to question them.” Anatoly was getting annoyed at the slowness of his speech, but needs must.

 

“Question who?”

 

“The Sacrament.”

 

Ethan smiled at him again. “They don’t exist.”

 

Anatoly returned his gaze to the ceiling. He’d laugh, but he wasn’t sure if his ribs were up to it. “You enjoy making my job difficult.”

 

By the dip in the mattress, he correctly surmised that Ethan had placed a hand on the bed – yes, there was his face now, hovering above him. (And, yes, still attached to the man’s body, so this wasn’t some sort of hallucination.)

 

“I make your job interesting.”

 

Anatoly did laugh then, pleased to find that his ribs didn’t fracture (again) and didn’t puncture his lung (again).

 

“Unlike you, I do not count near-death as ‘interesting’.”

 

“ _Eta vse shto izvinenie ty budet paluchit_ ,” Ethan said. He carefully placed his left hand on the other side of Anatoly’s body, and then they were kissing. Just the barest brush of their lips, in deference to Anatoly’s condition, but he still hoped he wouldn’t set off any of the monitors.

 

Once they separated, he knew without looking what Ethan had done, but pointedly rattled the cuff all the same. Anatoly raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in an effort not to smile.

 

A paperclip was pressed into his palm. “Learn a new skill. Could save you one day.”

 

Hot, curling desire twisted Anatoly’s insides, even before their lips met for the second time. (And the third. And…well, you get it.)

 

It was funny to think how their positions were almost exactly the reverse of their very first meeting. Almost.

 

He let Ethan take control, lacking the energy and/or capability to even tilt his head. Ethan hummed softly as their mouths opened and their tongues touched, and Anatoly could only moan in reply. Slowly, twitchily, he slid his hand up Ethan’s chest – only to be rudely interrupted.

 

“Nice try,” the other man said. “How’d you know the key was in my top pocket, anyway?”

 

“Lucky guess,” Anatoly drawled, not perturbed in the slightest at being caught out. He’d expected no less.

 

The brightness in Ethan’s eyes grew enough to be called ‘twinkling’ as he kissed Anatoly’s palm. “I’d better go. Got a plane to catch.”

 

“Of course,” Anatoly said, not believing him at all. He watched Ethan straighten the bouquet on the table before starting to back out of the room.

 

“ _Do svidaniya_.” He frowned. “Or, no. See you.”

 

“Hopefully not in another hospital,” Anatoly called out, and Ethan winked before disappearing from view.

 

The Russian narrowed his eyes at the shut door as he worked on straightening the paperclip with one hand. As he unhurriedly tried to fit the end of it into the handcuffs’ keyhole, his gaze caught the Phlox and his frown relaxed.

 

He wondered how long it would take for Ethan to find the tracker.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

**Author's Note:**

> Daisies - Innocence, loyal love, purity, faith, cheer, simplicity  
> Primrose - Eternal love  
> Phlox - Harmony, "Our souls are united", "We think alike"
> 
> Eta vse shto izvinenie ty budet paluchit - That's all the apology you're going to get.  
> Do svidaniya - Goodbye.
> 
> Okay, yes, I am corny I can't help it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own this universe or these characters.


End file.
